Page 102 of Burn

I close my eyes, trying to remember the breathing exercise she took me through in the hospital, but all I can see are flashes of her fighting against the handcuffs.

Fucking handcuffs.

What the fuck have I done?

When Cally joined the department years ago, the first thing I did was ask him for a pair of regulation handcuffs. It sounded like a cool idea, but he refused, saying they were serialized, and he could lose his job for giving them away. Turns out, you can find anything on the internet, and I ordered myself a pair right then and there. The only use they’ve ever gotten was when Itried them on to see if I could get out of them without a key. It’s impossible, and suddenly the keys in my pocket feel like they weigh a thousand pounds. Like they’re burning hot against my skin.

My chest aches from the constant beating of my heart, and when I rub at it, the flesh is also tender. I pull at the collar of my shirt, finding the skin bright red. I don’t even remember rubbing it before now. I gently press my fingers into the spot to soothe the ache.

But this isn’t the kind of pain that goes away.

Not when I’ve done what I’ve done.

The fucking cameras. I can’t believe they found them, especially the peephole one. It’s so fucking small, and well hidden. They would have needed to take the door apart to see it, unless one of the guys broke it. McCoy probably broke it. Shit. I’m such an idiot. Another perfect example of me acting without fully thinking about the consequences of said actions, but I could never have imagined we would end up here.

The sound of metal clinking drags me out of my thoughts. I press my ear against the door and listen to her struggle against the cuffs. The bedframe scrapes on the floor, and after a few minutes, she lets out another scream. It’s exasperated, frustrated.

Then she goes silent. A false calm falls over the apartment as the storm continues to rage outside. The time passes without a single sound from inside the room, and that’s when my knees give out. I slide down the door, every muscle in my body clenched so tight that it hurts. The air around me feels noxious and hazy. I scan the apartment, and there are pieces of her everywhere. From here, I can see the bottle of perfume on the bathroom vanity. She bought fresh flowers at some point, and they sit on the kitchen table, wilting.

I suddenly need to talk to someone, so I dig into my pocket for my phone. A fresh wave of pain hits me when the only person I want to call is my dad. I open my contact list, scrolling to his name, and stare at it. It’s been years, and I bet the number has been reassigned. I’m tempted to dial it anyway, to see if his voicemail is still there, but I don’t think I can handle if someone else answers, so instead, I scroll to Cally.

My hand shakes as I lift the phone to my ear. It rings a few times before he answers. His voice is light and friendly when he says, “What’s up, Liberty?” I’m silent, breathing heavily into the phone like some late-night creep. “Hello? Adrian?” he says.

“I fucked up.” It’s all I can figure out to say.

There’s a beat of silence before Cally replies. When he does, his voice is lower. He must be at work and trying to hide the conversation. “What kind of fuck up? Like, I need my friend, or I need my cop friend to get me out of a bad situation?”

I drag my hand across my face and let out a long exhale. “I don’t know. Maybe both.”

Cally says something, but it’s muffled, as if he’s covered the phone’s mouthpiece, and I listen to the sounds of shuffling and moving. A few seconds later, he returns, speaking clearly, with a serious tone. “What’s going on. Start from the beginning.”

He’s seen me through a lot of shit. This, though? This takes the cake for fucked up, terrible situations with no possible happy ending. I chew at my bottom lip, trying to sort out my thoughts so I can tell him what’s happening least horrifically. There isn’t a better way to explain this; it's bad, and only the truth will suffice.

“Lex found out about the cameras,” I say, my voice cracking as I speak.

There’s a woosh of air as he exhales. “Oh, shit.” He laughs lightly. “How exactly did that happen? How did she react?”

“The insurance company found them and included them in their audit of her condo.”

“Well, damn. I guess you didn’t consider the potential for a fire in her building. I told you it was a fucking insane idea.”

“Not helpful.” I grit out.

He chuckles again, “Sorry, sorry. Okay, how’d she take it?”

“How the fuck do you think she took it?” The volume of my voice increases as my anger rises.

“Hey. Relax man. You called me, remember? I’m just trying to understand what we’re dealing with here. Where is she?”

Ugh.

“She’s here,” I say cautiously. “In, uh, the bedroom.”

“Well, that’s positive… right?”

“I’m gonna need you not to react. Okay?”

Cally sounds genuinely confused and concerned when he says, “Okay?”

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